


A New Fantastic Point of View

by sigh_no_more



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigh_no_more/pseuds/sigh_no_more
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Modern Paris: you randomly showed up as I was walking through campus one day and started giving me a really spirited tour and I think it's because you think I'm a new transfer student here even though I'm a senior but I'm not going to complain because wow you're kind of cute."</p><p>Written for the Reverse Bang for a <a href="http://socialjusticeofficial.tumblr.com/post/121229328268/a-long-time-ago-in-a-galaxy-far-far-away-i">piece </a> by <a href="http://socialjusticeofficial.tumblr.com/">socialjusticeofficial</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Fantastic Point of View

Life was a series of mundane events. It rarely surprised you. Sure, some people would go on and on about how life liked to rip the carpet out from under your feet, but in Grantaire’s opinion, those people were idiots. He always expected the worst, and he was never surprised and better yet, never disappointed. The plan was foolproof. Except for today, when apparently it wasn’t.

Grantaire was walking around, minding his own business. He paused in the courtyard to check his phone when he saw a beautiful blond striding right towards him. This actually _did_ take Grantaire by surprise, because people rarely approached him without provocation, especially not beautiful people. And yet, the blond was striding towards him with a determined expression on his face.

“No, no, no,” he said, pointing at the cup in Grantaire’s hand. “ _Starbucks_? Are you serious?”

“Uh-”

“I promise you, there are better places for coffee on or around campus. I can’t believe no one’s bothered to show you any of them. Right, well, we’ll get there.”

“We will?” Grantaire said, as the blond seized an arm. He was too confused to retort that no one had to tell him there were better coffee places- he was a senior, and by now, he knew not only the best places for coffee around campus, but the best places for coffee all around Paris. He had gone to Starbucks out of laziness.

“Yes. But later. The best place for coffee is on the other side of campus, and it doesn’t really make sense to go there right now.”

“Why is that?” Grantaire said. He would absolutely get coffee with the beautiful blond any time, including right then. He would even gulp down his scalding hot coffee so he could get another cup with this man.

“Well, if we’re doing a tour of campus, it doesn’t make sense strategically to walk through all of it, get coffee, then go back. It’s cold out,” the blond said, tossing his curls as if trying to shake out the chill.

“We’re doing a tour of campus?” Grantaire was _so_ confused.

“Yes. That courtyard you were just in was in front of the fine arts building, which I don’t really know much about. My friend Feuilly spends some time there. He’s not a student here, but he audits classes.”

The blond looked at Grantaire like he was daring Grantaire to say something about that.

“What classes does he audit?”

“A little bit of everything. Painting. Paper craft. Welding. He’s very talented.” He looked so proud of his friend, and damn, it was really cute. “Anyway, if you have any questions, I can get you in touch with Feuilly. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”

“O-kay.” Grantaire wondered at what point he should say he was sure Feuilly was very nice, but he knew all about the fine arts building, because _Grantaire_ was getting a degree in fine arts.

The blond nodded darkly at a uniformed police officer standing at the other side of the street. “That’s Javert. He’s the liaison between campus security and the Paris police force. Avoid him at all costs.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

“He’s always trying to shut down our protests, even if we have a permit,” the blond said with one last scowl at Javert before they moved on to the next building. “Did Courfeyrac not tell you about the rally for gender neutral housing last year?”

“Courfeyrac?” Grantaire repeated dumbly. “Look, I think there might be some misunderstanding.”

The blond stopped abruptly, his eyes wide. “Courfeyrac _did_ tell you that he asked me to show you around campus, didn’t he?”

“Uh….no,” Grantaire said truthfully.

“Oh,” the blond looked embarrassed. “Well, his internship’s schedule is just impossible. He found out last night that he had to be down at the courtrooms this morning, and asked me to show you around instead. Sorry I didn’t say that sooner. Combeferre says I always jump into things without stopping to think.”

“That’s okay,” Grantaire said awkwardly because the blond looked so earnest in his apology. “Look, uh, sorry, I don’t know your name…”

“Enjolras,” he said, looking like he was mentally kicking himself.

“I’m R,” Grantaire said.

“R….” Enjolras tilted his head confusedly. It was adorable. “Oh, I get it. Marius. _Mar_ -ius. R. I like it.”

“Uhh…” Grantaire said, thrown by how out of hand this was getting.

“Oh, Courfeyrac mentioned you were shy. Let me know if I’m being too much. I’ve been reliably informed that sometimes I steamroll people,” Enjolras said, apparently mistaking Grantaire’s confusedness for bashfulness.

“No, you’re not-”

“Good!” Enjolras beamed, linking arms with Grantaire. “Is this okay? I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

This would be the perfect moment to tell Enjolras that regrettably, he had no idea what he was talking about, and Grantaire didn’t even know Courfeyrac (although the name did ring a bell). But looking at Enjolras’s earnest expression, Grantaire thought he would willingly follow this beautiful man around anywhere. So instead he said, “Where are we going next?”

“That’s the main library,” Enjolras nodded at the large imposing building. Grantaire knew it well. He spent a lot of time in there. Of course, he didn’t really read anything relevant to his courses. And he did get in trouble more than once for having nerf gun fights in there with Joly and Bossuet. But the point was, he spent a lot of time in there.

Enjolras was shooting it a disdainful look. “It’s always crowded and noisy in there.”

Oops. Grantaire kept an innocent expression. “Oh?”’

“Now _this_ is the law library,” Enjolras said excitedly. “It’s great. Of course, the materials in there are pretty specific, but Courfeyrac mentioned you had been pre-law at your old university.”

Right. Because Grantaire was pretending to be some kid named Marius. He quickly added “transfer student” to his mental list of things he knew about Marius. So far, it included his name, the fact he knew some guy named Courfeyrac, and now that he was a transfer pre-law student.

“I’m not sure if I’m...studying law anymore,” Grantaire said. He didn’t want Enjolras to start asking him a lot of questions about his coursework. Plus, he wanted to give Enjolras what little truths about himself that he could without blowing his ‘cover’.

“Oh. Well, it’s still a really good place to study,” Enjolras said. “Quiet. Combeferre comes here all the time, even though he’s not taking any law classes.”

“Mmm,” Grantaire said noncommittally. He wondered if he was supposed to know who Combeferre was.

He let Enjolras drag him in the library. Privately, he noticed all the multi-level building with its many nooks and crannies would be a _perfect_ place for him, Joly and Bossuet to have their next nerf gun fight. But since he didn’t want to make Enjolras hate him, he decided to file that idea away. After Enjolras pointed out a few of his favorite hidden spots to study, he led Grantaire out again. Grantaire was a little surprised at this generosity- Grantaire would never give away his secret places to a virtual stranger.

Enjolras apparently had no problem in sharing not only the best places in the library, but in a quiet courtyard just around the corner, and a little hole-in-the wall sandwich place nearby.

“Coffee?” Grantaire said hopefully.

“If you want,” Enjolras said. He lowered his voice. “The Musain’s is better.”

“The Musain? I love that…” Grantaire caught himself just in time. “Name. I love that name.”

“I guess,” Enjolras said. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

They ended up not getting coffee at the Corinth, opting instead to wait until they went to the Musain. Normally, Grantaire was a fan of instant gratification, but Enjolras’s enthusiasm made him decide to delay getting his coffee. Even though he had been to the Musain a million times before. Enjolras was just that infectious.

The campus came alive as Enjolras described it to Grantaire. Now a senior, Grantaire had outgrown the campus, or so he thought. He had seen and done everything there was to see and do. At the end of the day, it was just boring pocket of the much more interesting Paris.

Not so in Enjolras’s eyes. Every building, every bench had something special about it. Even the walls were special.

“Look!” Enjolras said, stopping abruptly, pointing to a graffitied brick wall.

It was some impressive, graffiti, Grantaire had to admit. The black, red, and white figures were bold. They were shadow people who appeared to be marching forward, straining to get off the two dimensional wall and into the real world. Arching over their heads were the words, “Liberte, egalite, fraternite”.

Enjolras glanced over his shoulder before leaning into whisper to Grantaire. “My friend Jehan did that.”

“Did he really,” Grantaire said dryly.

“Yes they did,” Enjolras said proudly. “They’re a brilliant poet too, but poetry’s a little harder to get on a wall.”

“It’s a little….cliché,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras frowned at this. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know. Marching figures….liberte, egalite, fraternite. It’s a little French Revolution, no?”

“So when you said cliché, you meant classic. Or timeless,” Enjolras arching his eyebrows, challenging Grantaire to contradict him.

“I know what I said.”

Enjolras pressed his lips together, as if trying to physically suppress his retort. It didn’t work. “It’s meant to get a point across quickly. This is a busy area. People walk by it, and the mural-”

“Graffiti.”

“ _Mural_ ,” Enjolras said firmly. “Has seconds to make an impression. What better way to do that than to use familiar imagery and phrasing? It calls on the subconscious but Jehan also made it their own. There’s a lot of feeling in it. The clichés as you call them will drive the point home, but it’s the passion behind the work that will make people feel something too.”

Grantaire whistled. “You know, most of the graffiti is just bored kids wanting to vandalize something.”

He would know. He’d done his fair share of mindlessly defacing walls or sidewalks in the area.

“Well, Jehan is different,” Enjolras said proudly. “They're part of Les Amis.”

“Ah.”

Grantaire didn’t know Les Amis personally, but they were infamous around campus for being rabble-rousers with a cause. He purposefully avoided them and their rallies for that reason. Joly and Bossuet had actually been members of Les Amis since they started about a year ago, and had tried many times without success to get Grantaire to go to a meeting with them. He had no problem with rabble-rousing. It was one of his favorite things to do. The cause part was where he took issue.

“So Courfeyrac told you about us then?” Enjolras asked excitedly.

“I know about you guys, yeah,” Grantaire said truthfully.

And this would usually be where he would cut someone off. He had no interest in listening to people talk about causes he already knew would fail. But when Enjolras talked about something he was excited about, he came alive and what was more, was he made _Grantaire_ feel alive, at least a little bit. So he made no effort to shut him up.

“We’re having another rally next week for gender neutral housing,” Enjolras said excitedly.

“Good luck,” Grantaire said, not able to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

He felt Enjolras’s arm tense from where it was still linked to his. “Courfeyrac thought you might want to join us.”

“Oh. Well...you know Courfeyrac.”

“Mmm,” Enjolras said, apparently agreeing with the generic statement. Still, he seemed….disappointed.

“I just don’t see the point in what you do,” Grantaire explained, feeling the need to defend himself.

Enjolras stopped abruptly. He wretched his arm free, then crossed both arms in front of his chest. “What do you mean you don’t see the point?”

“Look, I’m not saying your goals aren’t worthy. They’re just not achievable. That’s all.”

Enjolras grit his teeth. “Maybe you should come to one of our meetings so I can convince you otherwise.”

Grantaire would love to see that. “Maybe I should.”

This only slightly placated Enjolras who nodded stiffly. He pointed to the student bookstore.

“Let me guess. The bookstore?” Grantaire said, because he was an asshole.

“Yes,” Enjolras said. “But also where we’re setting up a food drive in a month. That’s the independent bookseller. They’re pretty supportive of us. They let us have bake sales and drives and gather signatures in front of their store.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’.” Enjolras said coldly.

Grantaire sighed. “Look, I never said I disagreed with what you do. I just think it’s kind of like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. Nice thought, but kind of useless.”

Since Enjolras was starting to look huffy, Grantaire decided to drop it. He didn’t want him to walk away. So he changed the subject. He wasn’t sure he was capable of continuing down this line of conversation without getting snarky. Or snarkier anyway.

“So, is the bookstore actually any good?”

Enjolras seemed to recognize it as the white flag that it was. He pursed his lips, and for one terrible second, Grantaire thought he might not accept.

“It has a good selection,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Let’s cross the street here.”

And just like that, Enjolras was back to being an enthusiastic guide. It probably helped that he thought Grantaire was a friend of his friend.

“Oh, let’s go through here,” Enjolras said. He squeezed behind a dumpster and pointed to the door to a cellar and grinned. When Grantaire hesitated, Enjolras just raised his eyebrow, a silent challenge.

Grantaire rolled his eyes and followed him, wondering if there was anything Enjolras _couldn’t_ get him to do. They had to jump down through the door, before landing in the dark.

“Are you going to murder me and hide my body here?” Grantaire asked flatly.

“You’re ridiculous.”

To Grantaire’s surprise, they weren’t in a cellar. They were in some sort of covered passageway that opened up to an alley. Grantaire blinked at the daylight in surprised. Enjolras laughed at his reaction, before turning his face skyward and basking in the sun’s rays as they kissed his face.

“Why. Just...why?” Grantaire said.

“It’s useful,” Enjolras looked almost offended. “That has saved me many a time.”

“From being late to class?”

“Yes. And...well, I found it when I was running from campus police. I managed to wriggle through, and they ran straight past. They don’t know about this place, so you can either hide here, or use it to cut through and run to safety.”

“Why were you running from campus police?”

“Oh, you know,” Enjolras shrugged casually.

“I don’t. That’s why I asked.”

Enjolras screwed up his face. “I can’t remember, actually,” he laughed. “Probably...maybe that was when I was Jehan’s lookout when they were doing graffiti and we split up. I think that was it.”

“You don’t even remember why you were hiding from campus police?”

Enjolras shrugged as if to say ‘so?’.

Grantaire chuckled. “You have a problem, my friend.”

This proclamation wasn’t met with any protestation, just another shrug from Enjolras, who sat down on an upturned crate with an air of familiarity. Grantaire seated himself opposite him.

“You know, you need to stop giving away your secret places,” Grantaire said.

“Says who?”

“I’m just saying, if you keep showing them to people, they won’t stay secret. I assume you’ve shown this to the rest of your rag-tag revolutionary buddies.”

Enjolras laughed. “One time, we were running away after a protest. I’d shown everyone this place before then. Anyway, that day, we all hid here. It wasn’t a planned meeting spot, it was just the first place that popped into our heads. So we ended up being this massive group in the alley. Some of us has had injuries, mostly minor. So we were kind of stuck here, because we would be this massive, limping group-”

“Why not break off into smaller groups?” Grantaire interrupted.

“I don’t know. I guess no one really wanted to separate now that we had found each other again. Anyway, we were stuck in the alley, and we had to keep quiet, because okay, security isn’t really smart, but they’re not completely incompetent, so if we all started talking, they’d probably find us. So we had to sit here, and wait for hours and hours in silence. We ended up lying down and watching the sky change colors at sunset.”

Enjolras’s severe features were softened and he sounded so impossibly _fond_ at the memory. The dingy alleyway suddenly seemed much more pleasant to Grantaire.

“More of Jehan’s art,” Enjolras said, pointing to some chalk drawings on the wall. Grantaire was content to watch Enjolras trace the outline of a bleeding rose gently with his finger.

They stayed in compatible silence for Grantaire wasn’t sure how long. Then Enjolras stood up. “Come on. We have to finish the tour before it gets too cold.”

Grantaire wanted to protest that he was fine, just sitting with Enjolras, but Enjolras held out his hand to help Grantaire, so he took it. To his surprise, once he was standing, Enjolras didn’t release his hand, even when they were back on the side-walk.

“This is my building,” Enjolras said, pointing to a modest sized apartment building. “Combeferre and I room there. Courfeyrac is over all the time, so I’m sure he’ll drag you along. And since our apartment is the biggest, we’re usually volunteered to host parties there.”

Grantaire just nodded. Joly and Bossuet had tried to get him to come to some of their Les Amis parties, swearing that the parties were way less social justice oriented than the actual meetings. (“Like….only 60% of conversation is about social justice or overthrowing the government or whatever.” “That’s about the same as the usual meetings though.” “Shut up, Joly!”) Grantaire always had other obligations he claimed. He regretted that now.

“Oh and this,” Enjolras gestured excitedly to the main classroom building. “Is where we had our first rally. We set up right on the steps and spoke to the crowd. Of course, it was a Saturday, and it wasn’t a crowd so much as a scattering. We’ve obviously gotten a lot better since then, but this is where it all started.”

Grantaire tried to picture it. He imagined Enjolras was a very charismatic speaker. One on one, he was captivating. Amplified for a large crowd, his charms must be positively mesmerizing.

“Have you always known you wanted to be an anarchist?”

Enjolras scoffed. “I’m not an anarchist. I’m a….dissenter.”

“Rebel.”

“Revolutionary,” Enjolras said. His eye twinkled as he raised his eyebrows as a challenge to Grantaire. For once, Grantaire didn’t rise to it.

“Well,” Grantaire said slowly. “I suppose, time will tell. The victors write history and all that.”

“You just ran out of synonyms.” Enjolras said.

Grantaire laughed. “I never run out of words. Just accept my peace offering, or I will start talking and I won’t stop.”

“What if I make you stop?”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

Enjolras’s face seemed closer than it had been just a minute ago. He bit his lip, and Grantaire wondered if he knew how sexy it looked, or if it was just a nervous tick. “I dunno. I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“What’s that?” Grantaire asked, feeling suddenly a little breathless.

“Try me.”

Someone suddenly jostled them from behind as they hurried past. Because right, they had somehow stopped in the middle of the sidewalk without Grantaire noticing. The jolt broke the spell. Enjolras blinked, then he blushed. Or maybe Grantaire just wanted to imagine him blushing. The flush in Enjolras’s cheeks could easily be because of the cold.

“Right. Um, we should..” Enjolras took a deep breath. “I should finish giving you the tour.”

If Enjolras were giving a tour to a new student, he would be abysmal. A total failure. He didn’t give any practical information, like where the student union building was, nor did he point out any official classroom buildings unless he had a story about them. At one point he enthusiastically pointed to a stately old building.

“During World War II, the French Resistance used the basement of this building as a meeting place.”

Grantaire squinted at the sign in front of it. “It also says this is one of the college’s main administration buildings.”

Enjolras waved aside this uninteresting fact. “Yes, well _now_ it is. But back then, it was actually important.”

“The Dean of Students isn’t important?”

“Hardly. Anyway…”

Grantaire contentedly listened to Enjolras gush about the history of the building, and the French Resistance. He stopped to point out another one of the classroom buildings (“I took my first class with Professor Lamarque there. Oh, and his office is just down that street there. I can show you later. He’s brilliant.”) before going back to his enthusiastic ranting.

“And, during the war, the Resistance actually built tunnels from that building to get around Paris undetected.”

Grantaire had heard rumors of secret tunnels on campus, but hadn’t ever actually found them, which annoyed him to no end. He knew almost every facet of the streets of Paris. He always thought it would be cool to know some underground routes too. He’d make himself a little Marauder’s Map of Paris that way.

“Have you been in them?”

“A few times,” Enjolras shrugged, and Grantaire wanted to kiss him right then and there. “Combeferre knows them better than any of us- he found some old maps,” he said like it was no big deal. “But he won’t share them ever since Bahorel used one of the tunnels to break into the law building and sabotage it.”

Grantaire’s eyes widened. “You’re friends with the kid who changed the phones in the law building so when they rang, they played a Katy Perry song? With the kid who filled every single professor’s office with balloons? Who put filled thousands of plastic cups with water and put them on the floor in an insane maze that the professors had to try and hop through? That kid?”

“And yet when I ask him to help me hand out fliers, he says it’s too much work,” Enjolras said, looking like he was trying very hard to be annoyed at his friend, but not quite managing.

“That sounds reasonable,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Anyway, we found one of the entrances to the tunnels in the basement of the Musain. That’s where we hold all our Les Amis meetings, and so it’s practically a second home to all of us. The basement is usually just used for storage, and Jehan says it looks like a serial killer’s lair, so everyone avoids it. But then for Courfeyrac’s birthday, he wanted to have ‘the most epic game of Sardines’, and somehow we ended up accidentally finding the tunnels, much to Combeferre’s chagrin.”

“No one says ‘chagrin’ casually in a sentence.” It should have sounded douchey and pretentious. It didn’t. It sounded intelligent and charming.

“I just did.” Enjolras said confusedly.

Enjolras was picking up the pace a little bit, leading them to…

“Here we are. Coffee,” Enjolras said, gesturing to the Musain grandly.

He lead them in, walking around like it was a second home. When Grantaire went to the Musain, it was usually at 4am after he had wandered around the city, or was coming back from a party and needed a place to sit and sober up for a little while. Enjolras probably went at more normal human hours, so that would explain why they hadn’t seen each other before.

Grantaire pretended to scan the menu. Enjolras excitedly told him about the cafe’s commitment to fair trade coffee and fair wages. Grantaire thought the coffee was decent, the atmosphere was nice, and it had convenient hours. But he supposed the noble but ultimately futile efforts at being environmentally friendly made him feel less shitty as a person than if he were to spend the same money at a soulless chain.

“Grantaire?”

Fuuuuuuuck. Joly and Bossuet were waving cheerfully at him from a corner booth. He jerked his head at them, willing them to go away. Joly tilted his head with concern. Shit, shit, _shit_. He tried to make a “shoo” gesture at them, but now they was getting up and _coming over_. Damnit.

Enjolras chattered on, oblivious. Until Joly and Bossuet reached him. He beamed.

“Joly! Bossuet! We were just grabbing coffee. Want to join us?”

“I didn’t realize you knew each other,” Bossuet said.

Enjolras looked confused. He turned to Grantaire. “You know Joly and Bossuet too?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said, wishing his powers of telepathy were better so he could tell his two best friends to _go away_.

“We’ve known Grantaire for ages.”

Grantaire could see the wheels turn in Enjolras’s head as he tried to make sense of all this. “R. Like….Grand R?” Enjolras said slowly. Oh no, oh no. He got lame puns. Grantaire was screwed in so many ways.

“Exactly!” Joly said, delighted.

“R is for Grantaire. Not Marius,” Enjolras said, his brow scrunching up.

“Who’s Marius?”

At that moment, a curly-headed man and a lanky one swept in the room. The lanky one was inexplicably soaking wet, wearing a feather boa, and had a lipstick kiss mark prominently displayed on his cheek. The curly-headed one had a projective arm around him.

“Enjolras!” the curly-headed one said furiously. “What the hell? You were supposed to meet Marius and look after him. Now look at him!”

Marius did look rather pathetic.

Enjolras rounded on Grantaire. “So _R_ ,” he said, the venom in his voice making Grantaire flinch. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

 _You’re really beautiful when you’re angry_ seemed like one of the stupidest things to say. Grantaire barely restrained himself. Instead he did something almost as bad and shrugged.

“Are you even a transfer student.” Enjolras said flatly. It wasn’t a question, because he already knew the answer.

“No. I’m a senior.” Grantaire admitted.

He knew he deserved the curt nod Enjolras gave him, but it still stung. “Right. Well then. Thank you for wasting my time. I guess it’s all just a big joke to you, so thanks. Come on, Marius.”

Enjolras grabbed Marius by the elbow. Poor, traumatized Marius looked terrified at the prospect of being dragged around campus by Enjolras. Enjolras’s curly headed friend brought up the rear, but not without casting a curious glance at Grantaire.

After the door slammed shut behind them, Joly turned wide-eyed to Grantaire. “What was _that_?”

“Just forget it,” Grantaire muttered, shoving past him. “I know I’m going to.”

 

***

 

Putting Enjolras out of his mind was easier said than done. Grantaire couldn’t walk through campus without being reminded of him. It was like he had been infected. He didn’t see Enjolras, but he now he kept seeing campus through his eyes.

“Just apologize,” Joly said.

“And say what? ‘Sorry for lying to you and wasting your time, I just thought you were really hot’?”

Bossuet shrugged. “People have done worse for less.”

“Not helping.”

He was haunted by Enjolras, everywhere he went. He saw Enjolras’s hope in the graffiti. He saw his smile when he passed a classroom building Enjolras actually liked. He heard his laugh when he walked by the secret alley entrance. He was drowning in memories of that day, but he did not encounter the man himself again. He thought about seeking Enjolras out. It wouldn’t be too hard – he had a guide of Enjolras’s favorite spots on campus. But instead of using that guide to seek him out, he used it to avoid him.

Unfortunately, the guide didn’t tell him how to avoid everyone. He was strolling down the street one day, when he heard someone shout.

“Hey. _Hey!”_ He turned and oh, shit, it was Enjolras’s curly headed friend, accompanied by a tall, bespecled man. And now the curly-headed one was jogging after him. The man with the glasses was coming towards him too. He didn’t run, but managed to almost keep up with his friend, since his legs were so much longer.

“You’re, you’re the guy! He’s the guy!” Curly Head said, pointing in Grantaire’s face. His friend yanked his hand down. 

“I should go.”

“No, you can’t go! He’s the guy who Enjolras thought was Marius and gave the campus tour to.”

“Ah,” the bespecled man glanced at Grantaire curiously.

“I’m Courfeyrac, and this is Combeferre,” Courfeyrac, the curly-headed one said. “And he’s Grantaire. Not that we’ve been talking about you at all or anything.”

So these were Enjolras’s best friends. It was nice to have names to match the faces, but Grantaire couldn’t imagine they had any cordial thoughts towards him. “Well, this was fun, but again, I should go.”

“You know, Enjolras hasn’t been himself for the past few days,” Combeferre said, watching Grantaire’s reaction closely.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” Grantaire didn’t really know what else to say.

“I’m not the one you should apologize to,” Combeferre said, not unkindly.

He was right. Damn him, Grantaire thought.

“Last I saw him, he was headed off to study.”

 

***

 

Grantaire went straight to the law library. It was after all, Enjolras’s preferred place to study. It didn’t take him long to locate Enjolras in the maze of bookshelves and nooks and crannies – remembered which spots Enjolras liked best. He found him hunched over a table, typing furiously on his laptop. It took him a few minutes to notice Grantaire.

“Oh,” his fingers hovered over the keyboard, like he was torn between continuing his work and ignoring Grantaire, but couldn’t quite bring himself to. “It’s you.”

“It’s me.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then Enjolras did go back to working, his fingers flying over his keyboard. Grantaire slid into the seat opposite Enjolras. Enjolras was too confrontational to be able to sustain a cold-shoulder.

Sure enough, after a few minutes, Enjolras stopped typing. “ _What_?”

“I just wanted to apologize to you.”

“For wasting my time.”

“Yes, for wasting your time.”

Enjolras stared at Grantaire coolly. “I suppose I should apologize to you as well. I have been reliably informed that I should check with strangers before accosting them and dragging them on campus tours,” he said, sounding a touch petulant.

And now Enjolras raised his eyebrows, a clear dismissal. Grantaire could leave. He probably should. He didn’t.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t complaining.”

At this, Enjolras huffed. “Why did you do it? Was it just so that I would make a fool out of myself? Was it funny to you?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

Enjolras continued to stare at him, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s just…if I told you I wasn’t Marius, you wouldn’t have a reason to talk to me anymore, and you would have left.”

“Well, yes,” Enjolras said. Whatever he had expected Grantaire to say, it wasn’t that.

“I didn’t want you to leave without getting the chance to know you.”

Enjolras squinted at him, like he was expecting Grantaire to start laughing or tell him this was a prank.

“Look, I’m sorry I lied to you. But I don’t regret that afternoon. It was one of the best afternoons I’ve had in a while.”

“I accept your apology,” Enjolras said. He was frowning as he tried to process the rest of what Grantaire said.  But when he said nothing else, Grantaire stood up to leave him in peace.

“I’ll leave you alone then. Bye, Enjolras.”

“Wait,” Enjolras bit his lip. “It was one of the best afternoons I’ve had in a while too.”

His cheeks turned pink, and Grantaire’s heart skipped a beat.

“I figured you showed me all your favorite places on campus,” Grantaire said. “Maybe I could return the favor?”

Enjolras considered him, and Grantaire couldn’t help but squirm under his scrutiny. Enjolras shut his laptop and slid it into his messenger bag.

“Maybe you could. It’s the least you could do.”

His tone was cool, but there was a hint of a smile playing at his lips. And when Grantaire held out his hand, Enjolras accepted it without a moment’s hesitation, and he broke out into a full on smile.

“Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this was inspired by [a wonderful piece of art ](http://socialjusticeofficial.tumblr.com/post/121229328268/a-long-time-ago-in-a-galaxy-far-far-away-i) by the equally wonderful [socialjusticeofficial](http://socialjusticeofficial.tumblr.com/)


End file.
